The Aire We Breath
by PurpleSpring
Summary: Aerie just wanted to be famous. But she'd never asked to be related to Shane Grey, hate Mitchie, or fall in love with Nate. She couldn't control any of it. She just had to breathe the aire she breathed.
1. Live Your Life

**Hey! Here's a new story of mine! It's another good one! …I hope! Luv yousss.**

**~PurpleSpring**

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Aerie's POV

"ARABELLA!" Mimi shouted, her voice reaching all the way up into my bedroom. I opened the trap door, and climbed down the cast iron stairs. I stared into my mother's chocolate brown eyes, as if staring her down. I hadn't inherited those eyes of hers—the ones that almost always looked sweet and caring—but now they just held contempt. I couldn't imagine what I'd done to deserve that look. "What?" I asked, a soothing note in my voice. I'd noticed that whenever my mother was worked up, it was best to act calm so she would settle down. She was quite like a child. I quickly sat down on the black, spiral, cast iron stairs, anticipating a long conversation ahead. Mimi rubbed her pale forehead, pushing back her dark brown hair. She seemed to be calming down. Mimi sighed. "Why did I receive a letter addressed to you from your father?" Mimi asked, her voice calmer, but also clearly upset. I took in a breath. My father? As in the one that was a mystery to me? My mother had always told me he was famous, but long gone. I possessed one measly picture of him, a picture that did no help because my mother said he'd changed much since the picture. Whether or not she meant physically, I didn't care. I just always assumed I'd never know him, never see him. My mouth hung open. "My father?!" I asked, and instantly stood up, and before my mom—oops, Mimi hated it when I called her mom—could stop me, I reached for the letter and took it right out of her hands. I looked at the typed up letter. It was a letter begging me to call me, as if he'd sent letters before. I looked up at my mom. "Did he send letters before?" Mimi shook her head. But somehow I didn't believe her. But if she'd been hiding it, she wouldn't have called me down. I looked at my mom.

"Why is he suddenly begging me to talk to him?" I asked, then Mimi sighed. Okay, here was what she was hiding. I braced myself.

Mimi looked down at her coffee and stepped into the kitchen, starting to make breakfast. "Your father is…Matthew Grey." I choked on the air I was breathing suddenly. Ohmigod, I was related to Shane Grey? I almost vomited a little in my mouth. I despised the band Connect Three, their voice quality was terrible, their songs stereotypical, and their instrumentals half-rate. So what, Shane was hot, it didn't take away from the fact that his music was terrible. I lived in New York, for Christ's sake! I knew good music. I'd seen _Spring Awakening_, _In the Heights_, _RENT_, _Phantom of the Opera_. Connect three didn't impress me. I looked at my mom.

"So how does this relate to me?" I asked, Mimi sighing at my obvious detest. She knew how I despised their second-rate boy band.

Mimi looked up from the frying pan where she was making pancakes in. "Your father is looking for new talent. I told him about your voice and your acting talent. He was interested. You know he has a good voice, and so do I if I say so myself, so he was interested. You probably inherited both of our talent, and with all of your experience, you're a good actress too." I gaped at my mother. My father wanted to use to me to make more money?

"So my father is looking for more money?" I asked, not surprised. He just wanted to use me as some sort of asset. My mother looked up at me.

"Aerie, you have a chance at something here. You could become famous, great! You could become what I wanted to be!" My mother exclaimed getting more and more excited, despite the sleepy look in her eyes. I pursed my lips, unhappy with my mom. I was sixteen, she was she was thirty-two. Guess what happened there. My mothers fame plans had been dashed with a teen pregnancy by a much older rock star. He was something around twenty-five. My mother was the classic groupie.

"Don't project your childhood dreams onto me," I said, unleashing my anger onto my mother. How could she want me to be her? Hell, I didn't want to be her.

"Arabella, you are going to do this. Anyway, I'm going to be leaving to France in a few days for a month, so at least try it okay?" I couldn't believe my mother was taking his side. My mother turned off the stove and walked over to me, and ran her long fingers through my dark coffee brown hair. The color was inherited from her, but the texture definitely wasn't. Mimi's dark hair was thick and full, while mine was straight and rather thin. The only reason it wasn't completely thin was because it was layered and went down to the middle of my back. Mimi was a quarter Mexican, so that's why her hair was so thick.

I sighed. "Fine mom, I'll go." I quickly released myself from her grasp, and ran up to my room. This would mean leaving my friends, my school, and even my part in the school musical behind. I was Ilse in the school's production of _Spring Awakening_. That's right, I was in _Spring Awakening_ at school. I went to an artsy private school on the outskirts of Manhattan, and the normal PG rating that most schools endorsed were broken down at the school. Rumor was next year they were putting on _Hair_. I didn't want to miss that. I'd recently seen Jonathan Groff in hair, and since then, I've been absolutely in love with the show. Damnit, why couldn't I stay? But for some reason my mother wanted me to completely sell out and move over 3,000 miles away from all my friends.

I took my beat up pink Razr out of my Philip Lim double strap bag, sighing. My mother was an exec for Infinity records, which was how I got all my expensive gear and how I got into my private art school. She still wanted to be famous though. But all she was was someone who helped other people become famous. Aerie sighed and punched Kahra's number into her cell phone. Her mother still refused to buy her a new phone regardless of their money situation. And her mother also refused to get a new apartment that wasn't always so damn cold, even though they had the money for it. Even though Aerie couldn't imagine living anywhere else—

"Hey A!" Kahra exclaimed, her voice interrupting my internal tangent. Kahra had been my best friend since I entered the art school in sixth grade. She was basically like the quiet, blonde version of me. Also instead of being interested in acting, she was more into the behind the scenes part of theatre. She was also an amazing artist and photographer.

"Hey K," We called ourselves by our initials, like the people you see in Gossip Girl and shit. It was just a thing we developed, because I'd never really liked the nicknames of Bella or Aerie. And Kahra couldn't really have many good nicknames. So I'd started calling Kahra K and she started calling me A. I took in a deep breath. "K, my moms making me move to L.A. to live with my father," I said, but it came out more like, "mymomsmakingmemovetolatowithmyfather." I could hear Kahra staring at the phone.

"What?!" She said, her normally quiet voice growing loud. Okay, loud for her, which was regular volume for me. I frowned at the phone. "You can't move to L.A. You hate non-white Christmases. You hate all the fakeness of L.A. You hate movie-stars!" Kahra "yelled" into the phone. It was all true. I wanted to be a Broadway star, not a movie star. But my mom was right; this was kind of a once-in-a-lifetime chance. I kinda wanted to go, but I didn't want to be selling out. Also I really wanted to meet my father.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. My mom wants me to meet my dad. And he wants to make me famous." I heard K suck air into her mouth and then choke on whatever food she was eating presently. She was extremely skinny, yet she managed to consume more food in a day than I consumed in a week. I smiled at her hacking; knowing that it was most likely our favorite off-brand of ChexMix. The stuff was a neon shade of orange, but extremely cheesy. And that's exactly why we liked it. It made me sad that we would no longer be able to have sleepovers every weekend, where we made cupcakes or cookies, watched a new list of movies we said we needed to see, and then passed out around 2 A.M. after many rounds of pop and candy.

"YOU'RE FATHER?! Who is he? What does he do? Why didn't I find about this earlier?" This is the first time I'd ever heard K sound so excited. I laughed at hearing her so upset. "Stop laughing!" She yelled, but then she began to giggle too.

"Yes, my father. He's Matthew Grey." Another huge inhale from Kahra, but I interrupted her before she could comment, "He's some sort of talent agent or something, and he wants another star and he thinks its me. And I just found out too so were sort of in the same position." I could hear K stuttering into the phone.

"You're related to Shane Grey?! You mean the worst singer ever?" Then Kahra went on to do an over-exaggerated version of a song of theirs. It was throaty and over-nasaly. I smiled at her imitation. It was true. Maybe when I met him I could give him singing lessons.

"Yeah, and also the 'bad boy' of the tween world." We both sniggered. He was a bad boy like I was a High School Musical fan. Translation: Not at all. I looked at the letter again. It had listed Matthew's number. I should probably call him. "Look K, I'll call you later. I'm going to call my father." We said our goodbyes and I dialed my father's number.

"Hello?" A teenage boy's voice answered the phone, and I looked weirdly at the phone. Which number had my father given me?

"Um, hi, is Matthew Grey there?"

"Uh no, he left his cell at home, who is this?" The boy asked again, and I couldn't help but think that I recognized his voice. I shook it off.

"This is his daughter, Arabella." A suddenly silence fell over the line. "Who am I talking to?"

"Shane Grey."

Oh fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I'd made a completely huge mistake. I shouldn't have—I didn't mean to…

"O—oh," I stuttered. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to—"

"His daughter? I have a sister?" Shane questioned me, and I felt my cheeks flush. If we'd been talking in person I think I would've fainted. This was such an awkward situation.

"Uhm, I'm sure your father will explain it…um, can I have his work number or somewhere else I could reach him?" I asked, my voice shaking. He gave me his fathers work number and I muttered a quick goodbye. I quickly dialed it, not wanting to even dwell on the conversation previous.

Matthew's secretary answered. "Hello, this is Matthew Grey' office can I help you?" She asked, her voice almost robotically perfect. I tried not to vomit. I bet she was some actress who was really bad and was never cast in anything, so she thought she'd be able to get somewhere by being a secretary and kissing major ass.

"This is Arabella, his daughter." Another silence. I heard her drop the phone and I heard the furious clacking of high heels against hardwood floor. Then I heard more shuffling and whispering, and finally the phone being raised and the happy voice of a man filtering through the phone.

"ARABELLA!" He exclaimed, his voice sunny and welcoming. I had seen a few pictures of him recently, and he had come a long way since his rockstar days. He was still slender and looked nimble, but now he was a well-groomed L.A. elitist. Which really wasn't saying much. "What's up?" I could even hear a tone of a surfer dude in his voice. Ick, he had changed. I really wanted to yell, 'SELL-OUT' as loud as I could.

"Hi Matthew—I mean dad, I mean, um hi!" I said, flustered. He laughed at my awkwardness. "Um, I'm willing to come to L.A. And I could be your next client…" I trailed off.

"That's great! I'll send a ticket to your mother."

And just like that, I was headed for L.A.


	2. Love Story

**Woohoo, new chapter! But it's really short, sorry! **

**~PurpleSpring  
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Aaron's POV

"I heard she's hot," I said, opening the stainless steel door of my refrigerator. Shane scoffed into the phone. I rolled my eyes, pulling out a carton of orange juice. Shane was the 'bad boy' of all the tween networks, but was really just an asshole who sang the lead for a second-rate band. Didn't mean that I wasn't friends with him, it was just that Shane Grey was a complete fake.

"She's my sister!" Shane exclaimed into the phone. Shane and I had met at Camp Rock last year, when I was an aspiring rock star. Now, almost a year later, I had a record deal, Mitchie and Shane had been dating for almost three years, and now apparently, Matthew Grey had an illegitimate child. Surprise surprise. Rockstars always went bad and always did bad things.

"So, you're the supposed badass of the tween stars. And anyway, it seems you don't care about nasty things. Especially with you and Mitchie doing the—" Shane cut me off before I could continue.

"Nothing like that happened between us and you know that," Shane scolded, but the accusatory tone in his voice sounded a bit overprotective. Normally Shane would probably boast about his non-existent virginity, but both his and Mitchie's fan base was the tweens, and both had to keep relatively squeaky-clean records. And once someone had an event like the confirmed, everyone seemed to find out. I swear the paparazzi had our phone lines tapped.

"Blah, blah, blah, I don't believe you. Anyway, I know you want to tap that," I said, and then laughed. It was weird how someone as assholish as Shane seemed to be so infatuated with such a goody-two-shoes as Mitchie. They did break up for a while two years ago at Camp Rock, before I'd went, but that didn't last long. His girlfriend Jenna died of some tragic disease, and after she was dead Mitchie and Shane really missed each other, so they'd gotten back together and Mitchie forgave Shane's sorry ass. I couldn't understand why she'd ever forgiven Shane, but it didn't matter. I'm not gonna get involved in someone else's relationships. That always ended badly.

"Shut up. I don't think of her like that," I choked on my orange juice, and my laugh became a sort of laugh/cough. I could hear Shane roll his eyes over the phone. Apparently Shane just wasn't that horny. Complete B.S.

"Oh yeah Shane, pretend you don't have hormones. Hey, don't forget about Ella's party tonight okay? See you there, 'virgin.'" I remarked, and pressed end on my iPhone. Ella's party was going to be awesome tonight. Even though she was a huge whore, and her idiot boyfriend Jason never saw that, her parties were killer. I ran up to my room and changed into my party clothes, even though the party wasn't for a while. But its not like I had anything else to do. I changed into a grey American Eagle top and some dark wash jeans. Its December here, so it gets down to about 70 degrees at night, which is pretty damn cold for L.A.

Suddenly I felt my iPhone vibrate. I unlocked it and opened a text message from Shane. It was a picture message so it took a while to load.

And then I saw her.

_Her. _

The most beautiful girl I'd ever laid eyes on.

She was wearing a light maroon wrap dress, which accented her porcelain skin. Her dark, coffee colored hair was fastened in a messy bun against her head. She had the deepest, clearest sapphire eyes, which shone against her almost white skin and her dark hair. She had a petite body; she was barely 5'4. She looked almost like a ballerina in her outfit, and she had the posture of one it seemed like.

And I was just looking at a picture of her.

I scrolled down to look at the message below the picture, which was: My sister. Think she's hot?

I almost laughed at the question. I didn't just think she was hot, I thought she was beautiful. And this wasn't the usual lust over someone. This was full on love. I think I was in love with Shane's sister.

Uh, oops?


	3. We're Okay

**Sorry this took so long. Hope you enjoy it!**

**~PurpleSpring  
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Aerie's POV

I stepped off the walkway into the airport, the cool air conditioning of the building slapping me in the face. I shivered slightly in my dress, realizing that I should've brought my small black shrug. But I knew that it would be warmer outside, so it didn't matter. I pulled my DVF rolling bag behind me and headed towards baggage claim, which was where Matthew promised to have his limo guy pick me up. My Mui Mui ballet flats made little thumping noises against the tile floor as I walked quickly down to the baggage claim. I absolutely detested airports and flying, but it was unavoidable in my situation. As I descended into the dimly lit baggage claim of LAX I noticed a man dressed in a clean black suit standing next to…Shane Grey? I gasped. He was out in the open, but they're none the less. I was surprised there were no paparazzi there. I pulled a candy colored earbud out of my ear and jogged over to them, the strap of my Philip Lim bag slipping down my shoulder.

"Hey!" I said breathlessly, suddenly skidding to a halt. My ballet flats had little traction so I had to press the bottom of my feet hard into the stone floor. I looked up at the people I was talking to. Shane's dark hair was styled in its usually floppy, messy fashion, and he had on a pair of very large, very white aviators that you always saw those 20-something celebutantes wear when they were trying to hide from someone. Next to him was a driver in the normal uniform of a suit. I smiled at them and quickly turned off my iPod, and pulled the other earbud out of my ear. I held out my hand and smiled widely. "I'm Arabella, but please call me Aerie." I shook the driver's hand and Shane just waved hi. I'm guessing he wasn't so happy about the sibling thing.

"I'm Carson, and I'll being your driver while you live with your father. This is Shane," The driver told me and I nodded. I noticed that my bags were already at their feet. I was slightly confused. Was I really that late? Then I realized that my luggage had come on another flight. Thank god the bags had not been lost. I hated when that happened. And I doubted that the Grey household contained any girl clothes. Seeing as Shane's mother was long gone…

"Hi both of you. Should we go?" I asked, looking at both of them. They nodded, and we exited the airport. We walked in the cool day to the SUV in complete and utter silence. I tried to start some conversation with Shane, but all he did was sulk. I quickly rolled my eyes and stepped into the large black car.

"So, Shane, you're dating Mitchie right?" I asked, and all I got in response was a quick and slightly sarcastic nod. I sighed and realized this was going to be difficult. I muttered under my breath, _'You don't have to be such a bitch about it.' _Shane looked up and narrowed his brown eyes at me.

"Hey, don't insult me for being less than cheery about finding out the reason my parents split up was because of you," He said, his voice staying a constant tone of seething. I rolled my eyes and looked out the darkened window.

"Oh please. Yeah, it was my fault that your parents broke up. You're mother didn't know ANYTHING about me, ever. She still doesn't probably. Until I get famous at least. But look," I turned to him, and when he looked away I grabbed his head and turned it to look into my icy blue eyes. "My mother was an insignificant blip on your fathers radar. I didn't know who he was till about twenty-four hours ago. And last time I checked, I spent most of my sixteen years in a dirty apartment walking to school in the freezing cold. My mother had to work her way to the top. Do the math. Your parents split up several years after me. And I've had it much worse than you ever will." And with that, the SUV pulled into the driveway of my new home.

***

The house was a bit overly luxurious like most L.A. homes I would come to find. Everywhere there was some fine piece of art or some interesting furniture, but nowhere could I find a single taste of class. I came from NYC, I knew class. Especially after dating an Upper East Sider for about two years back in freshmen/sophmore year. I quickly walked up to where Shane had told me my room was. I opened the door to find a bright and cheery room, one filled with stylish bookshelves, and lots of nice furniture. The walls were a light, crystal blue and all the furniture was either white or that color. My bed was a twin bed and had extremely fluffy pillows, all tinted either blue, green, or purple. I smiled. This just might be okay.

I raced over to look at my bookshelf. Looks like someone had done their research. All the classics were there, from Jane Austen to Charolette Bronte. I saw all the Cecily von Ziegesar books, which I adored, and all the Zoey Dean ones too. It was funny how my life was turning out to be exactly liked Jojo's in the new _A-List_ series. Except I wasn't as naïve as her. I rushed over to my closet, and found it chalk full of an all new wardrobe, complete with tons of bright colored clothing and many, many gorgeous accessories.

Amazing.

"Hey Arabella, there's a party at my friends house soon. You wanna go?" Shane asked, his voice considerably nicer than before. I smiled brightly and nodded.

"Of course!" He started to close the door when I realized something. "Oh, and Shane, if you wanna keep your head, call me Aerie." He smiled and nodded, and shut the white washed door behind him. So okay, I was totally enjoying my new life. I went to reach for my phone when I saw it. A brand new Sidekick was lying on my bedside table with a small note on it that read, _"Hope you like the new room. Here's a homecoming present. –Dad." _I squealed with joy. (Which I will never do again, btw.)


	4. This Town is for the Taking

Shane's POV

"What a whore!" Ella exclaimed, her mannerism so sloppy she was probably already toasted. Thankfully Jason was dumb as a brick, because he still stood next to her, watching her like a puppy that had been hit over the head by a brick.

"God Ella, she's standing right over there. Be quiet," Mitchie responded, handing Ella a drink. Mitchie then proceeded to scootch her way onto the orange couch I was seated in and settle on my lap.

"Is it really wise giving her another drink?" I remarked, picking up my horrible tasting spiked punch from the nearby oak coffee table. For rich kids we still managed to drink really shitty drinks, but that's mostly because Ella doesn't know how to throw a party, and more likely doesn't know how to acquire the good stuff.

"Its just watered down apple juice this time," Mitchie answered, her eyes following Ella, who now had just stumbled into one of the Sprouse twins and proceeded to moon over their wonderful acting skills. "I doubt she'll notice by now anyway. I think all the punch numbed her tongue."

"I know I won't be able to drink for weeks," I said. I smiled at her, wishing that I could stop being so goddamned pouty. But anymore all I could think about was—

"Shane, Matthew—I mean your Dad, is wondering where the fuck we are," Aerie said, sliding into view. She'd changed into some sort of relaxed New York look—her air was up in a messy bun and her black tank top was covered merely by a funky print cardigan which matched her earrings. Nothing like you'd see out here, but it was a little too pilgrim for me. I did like the tops low. But not on my sister. What the hell. I have a sister. I still couldn't believe that this neatly put together kid standing in front of me was my sister.

"You know he's your Dad too, Aerie." I pulled out my cell phone and sent off a quick text to Matt, letting him know our whereabouts. I then realized that Mitchie had been staring at both of us, questioning the exchange we'd been having. She now looked like the equivalent of a dog who'd just been swatted because she'd done a trick right. That was the problem with Mitchie, she was so fricken chaste—

"Shane? Hello?" Mitchie prodded me, looking for an explanation.

"Oh, sorry. Mitchie…this is my sister. Aerie. Aerie, this is Mitchie…my girlfriend," I'd stood up awkwardly and allowed Mitchie to fall from my lap. Thankfully she wasn't sloshed so she was able to stand up, but she looked a little dazed. She managed to mutter a 'hi', while Aerie just nodded and smiled. She looked pretty genuine too.

"Nice meeting you Mitchie," Aerie said, a little too formally in my opinion, and flicked her cropped bangs out of her face. "I'm going to go get some punch."

"Watch out, it sucks!" Mitchie warned, her warm personality finally peaking through.

Aerie smiled. "I can handle it." There was definitely a gleam in her eye as she said that. The girl might have some experience. I shifted my weight around once again receded to the couch, knowing Mitchie's anger at her encounter with Aerie would not be a quickly told rant. But before she could even take in a breath to start, Aaron jogged into the room, looking surprisingly unkempt. He was the kind of guy that always kept up appearances just in case any girl happened to look his way.

"Shane, Shane…" He puffed, resting his elbows on his knees, trying to catch in a breath. Where had he run from, Death Valley?

"Come on Aaron, use full words. Last time I checked you'd had a mastery of them for a while. Or at least since I've known you," I retorted, standing up in order to help hold some of his weight. He was also sweating a lot, so with a quick movement I released his arm and instead patted his back, making as little contact with the sweaty kid next to me. I'm not OCD or anything, but still.

"Shane, shut the fuck up," He responded, finally regaining enough balance and control to stand up right. "Shane, was that your sister?" He asked, his blue eyes seeming a little too invested the idea that Aerie had been in his exact spot only a few minutes ago. That's a little suspicious.

"Yeah, that was Aerie."

Aaron's eyes widened for a moment, and then he took off once more into the throngs of people, soon disappearing amongst the vibrating bodies and pounding music. And probably a solid pound of vomit.

Mitchie at this point had dropped off somewhere by now, most likely running off to consult with one of her many best friends. Maybe it was Ella this time, so she had an excuse to laugh at something else than Aaron, who was up to another one of his schemes, no doubt. With a loud thump I ended up back on the couch, trying to really absorb everything that happened. And with a girlfriend parties were a lot less fun. There was no more useless flirting and less and less grinding. Not my idea of a fun time anymore. I bent over the couch edge, looking for any sort of interesting things to do during a party where your girlfriend was gone and your newly arrived sister was probably off somewhere getting a good ole L.A. welcome from one of the many douche bags Ella was friends with. Instead, all I found was Aaron's phone. I clicked on the touch screen just to confirm it was, but instead of finding his normal Sports Illustrated backdrop and list of apps, I found a recent text conversation.

Nate: Why should I care Aaron?

**You: She's gorgeous Nate. I mean, amazing.**

**Nate: Who is she even?**

**You: She's Shane's half sister man. And I'm in love with her.**


End file.
